


only one

by queenhomeslice



Series: Prince of Lucis, King of My Heart [14]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Arousal, Chubby Reader, Curvy Reader, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Literal Sleeping Together, Love Confessions, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Fantasy, fat reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27805102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Here I go,Scream my lungs out and try to get to you,You are my only one.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Reader
Series: Prince of Lucis, King of My Heart [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656907
Comments: 16
Kudos: 41





	only one

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way. 
> 
> ______  
> fic title and summary from "Only One" by Yellowcard

You wake up early—it's one of those jolts into consciousness, a harsh transition from weird, fuzzy dreams into blooming reality. 

Light. Soft whuffles of deep, even breathing from the other side of the king bed. Warm heat flowing from the vent above the half-cracked door. Soft, expensive microfiber sheets, black, with an elegant fish print. Of course. The bed of Noctis Lucis Caelum could hardly have anything else other than fish sheets. The prince himself is the source of the muffled breathing, piles of pillows separating the two of you like a chasm in the earth. A perfect, fluffy metaphor—he's untouchable, and he’s on one side of the proverbial train tracks, and you’re on the other. So close and yet so far away. Stark divides that consistently remind you of who you are. 

You’re blessed enough to be in the prince’s inner circle, to be his friend and companion, and you tell yourself that it’s enough. It _has_ to be enough—there's no possibility of anything more. Noct’s destiny is laid out—a political marriage, most likely, to some beautiful foreign princess. Future king, with Ignis as his Hand and Gladio as his shield, and probably Prompto as his first Kingsglaive. And where’s a place for you? Hopefully in some Citadel office, or on the royal council, if Noctis still thinks that highly of you after his father passes and he ascends the throne. 

Friendship always was, and always will be, the stopping point. 

Oh, but. _But_. 

If the gods were merciful, and if you could ask for anything in this mortal life at all, there would be—could only be—one thing you’d ask for. 

And what luxury, what bliss it would be. To have Noctis gaze upon you like a lover, to hold you close, to press his lean, strong, powerful body against yours. To know your most intimate places. To have those royal ears be blessed with your cries of pleasure—only for him. Only for Noctis. If falling in love were a competitive sport, you’d own every medal, have trophy rooms dedicated to pining away for the only man that has ever mattered in the history of the world. 

What a cruel fate it is to be hopelessly in love and devoted to someone that you can’t have. To hang on every word of someone who will only eventually slip away from you and become even more untouchable upon a cold, hard throne. 

Ah, well. And all of these thoughts swirling around in your head certainly do not help the overwhelming feelings between your legs. Rubbing your thick thighs together, you can already feel the heat, and there are tell-tale juices pooling from deep in your core. You shiver in a sudden explosion of goosebumps, gasping quietly and swallowing hard, trying to exhale softly into the morning so as to not wake the object of your desires. It does no good to close your eyes—imagining those rough, sword-calloused fingers on your skin fuels the fire even further; and with your eyes open, of course you can’t help but look at the soft tufts of jet-black hair that are poking up from under the heavy comforter. 

And if you started to touch yourself and attempt to alleviate tension, and if Noct were to wake and see you, then it would all surely be over. And that would be worse, right? Not being a part of his life at all? Like a dog sitting patiently at a table, waiting for scraps; here you are, sitting just on the outskirts of Noct’s inner circle, grateful for every simple hug or high-five he’s ever given you. 

It’s pathetic, but what else do you have to get off on? Pure imagination, otherwise—you've been blessed to see Noctis without a shirt from time to time, and holy Astrals, does it make your gut twist in the best and worst ways. Noctis is the penultimate beauty in your eyes, and every day it seems that you write another volume of poetry in praise and reverence of him. 

You’re too hot now—you throw off the comforter and the sheet, lying there shivering as your body is exposed to the air of the prince’s grand bedroom. The heat coursing through your veins is almost unbearable. You sit up, shivering even more as you feel your soft cotton nightgown sticking to your back. A cold shower might be your only salvation at this point. Better to do it now, while Noct’s asleep—tiptoe down the hall to the guest bath and get showered and dressed for the day. Make yourself some food, and breakfast for Noctis while you’re at it—distract yourself by playing games, or writing, or shit—even a brisk walk in the cold winter morning should chill you to the bone and ease away the overwhelming arousal. 

As you sit on the edge of the bed, trying to breathe deeply through the insatiable mood you’ve woken up in, you hear the rustling of sheets from the other side of the bed. How much torture do you put yourself through by sleeping in the same bed as Noctis? But of course, the prince is a perfect gentleman, setting up the row of pillows in between the two of you, never touching you, never taking advantage of the situation. (Oh, how you _wish_ Noctis would take advantage of the situation, if only once.) You and the prince trust each other implicitly—this closeness, this friendship, is one that you treasure with your life. 

“___________?” comes the groggy voice of the prince from the other side of the mattress. 

Tears have started to gather in your eyes—how pathetic, you think. Sitting here in desperate, unbridled lust; shaking and crying, yearning for the touch, the kisses, the intimacy that you will never have. All at once it comes crashing down like an angry Leviathan’s rage, washing over you and dragging helpless bystanders out to sea, to death. 

“Hey Noct, mornin’,” you whisper quietly, trying to be as normal as possible. 

Noctis is lazy, but not stupid. “Whaswrong,” he mumbles, a soft yawn cutting off the concern. 

You shake your head, even though you know he’s probably not looking at you. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” 

More rustling, a bit louder—then a soft grunt as Noctis turns over. “Can’t help but worry about you,” he says softly, so softly. 

You sniff hard, giving yourself away as another violent shake courses its way over your thick, warm body. “It’s—it’s nothing you can help, so. Don’t worry about it. Sorry if I woke you up.” 

“Hey,” says Noctis. More rustling, and then-- 

Your heart careens into overtime with the heat of Noct’s hand on your shoulder. The edges of his fingertips are like fire on the small patch of skin between your hair and the collar of your nightgown. You grit your teeth and attempt to breathe. 

“Come on, tell me,” Noctis coos. “You’re shaking and covered in goosebumps. Did you have a bad dream?” 

_I live in a bad_ _dream_ , your dramatic brain thinks before you can even think to answer the prince with words. You shake your head. “It’s—it’s too embarrassing, Noct. Don’t worry about it. I should...go start getting ready.” You attempt to pull away and stand up, but Noct’s strong grip holds you in place. 

“Try me,” he whispers low, like a challenge. 

You shake your head again. “You’d want—want nothing to do with me. Really, I’ll be fine.” 

Noctis huffs out a laugh. “I really don’t think you could do anything that would push me away.” 

“Oh, well I could think of a few things.” _If you only knew how I felt about you. Me, the poor geeky fat girl._

“What is wrong?” Noctis asks again, voice teetering on the edge of annoyance. 

You sigh, still getting goosebumps all over. Noct’s hand hasn’t moved, rough fingers brushing against your skin and setting off explosions inside of you. 

“I’m just...in a mood.” 

“A mood.” Noctis pauses. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m aroused, Noctis,” you groan softly. “Like, turned on. Horny. Whatever you wanna call it.” He doesn’t answer, and you know that everything has come crashing down, just as you thought it would. “This shit happens, y’know? So don’t bother with it. Just let me up so I can go take a cold shower and walk it off.” 

You attempt to rise from the bed again, but Noctis holds firm. 

“I didn’t realize—that sort of thing happened to girls too.” 

It’s your turn to laugh. “What, you think that guys are the only ones who get into primal moods? Think again.” 

It’s so quiet in Noct’s bedroom that you could hear a chocobo feather hit the floor. And then-- 

“Well, I mean, _is_ there anything I could do about it?” 

Goodbye, last functioning brain cell. _Dear diary, the date is November 30th_ _, and today, I died._

“What?” 

Noctis clears his throat, and finally withdraws his hand. “I mean, uh. Y’know. I could like...help you out, or whatever?” 

Are you still dreaming? You’re pretty sure you’re still dreaming. “I—you don’t have to, Noct. I mean—it's just me. I wouldn’t want you to do anything you hated.” 

“Who says I would hate it?” Noct’s voice is small, barely above a whisper. 

You finally turn your body halfway around and stare at him, the moisture in your underwear only growing as you gaze at Noct’s beautiful face and adorably messy bedhead. “What?” 

Noctis only shrugs as he looks at your face, pretty blue eyes growing wide. “Damn, you’re super red.” 

“Well, I mean—well _yeah._ ” 

There’s the tiniest smirk at the corner of the prince’s full, beautiful lips. “So do you want me to help you or not?” 

“I, uh—I feel like this is a trick question.” 

“What’s tricky about it?” 

“If I say no, I’m downplaying how I’m really feeling right now. But if I say yes...” 

Noctis lifts an eyebrow. 

“...if I say yes, uh. It kind of...well, it opens this whole can of worms that I’m not sure I’m ready for.” 

“Worms remind me of fishing,” says Noctis gently. “And we both know how much I love fishing. So why don’t you just tell me?” 

You squint your eyes shut and swallow hard, inhaling and exhaling deeply. 

“I like you, Noctis,” you whisper, feeling as though you’re about to faint. 

“You like me.” 

“Yes.” 

“Is that why you’re horny right now?” 

Your eyes fly open. “Well you don’t gotta just _say_ it like that!” you squeak, embarrassed. 

“But that’s why.” 

You sigh, nodding. “I mean. Basically. I guess. And look, I’m—I’m sorry. I really tried to be just your friend, I really did, but—” you chuckle, laughing as a defense mechanism in the onslaught of overwhelming and difficult feelings. “But I never really stood a chance, did I?” You shrug. “So just let me go. I promise I won’t bother you anymore. It’s not like the prince of Lucis needs some stupid fat girl pining after him like a lovesick puppy.” 

In the swiftest of motions followed by the crackle of blue-tinged magic, Noctis has you pinned to the bed, his hands gripping your wrists and his sweatpants-clad legs straddling your thick waist. He’s shirtless, and oh gods, what a vision above you. You could almost come just from the compromising position he’s put you in. 

“No-noct, what—” 

“Is that what this is about?” he almost growls. 

It’s turning you on even more—you can’t help but writhe underneath him. “What’s what about,” you pant. Oxygen, what’s that? You haven’t properly breathed since you’ve _met_ Noctis. 

“Why you haven’t told me how you felt,” the prince continues. “Because of your weight? You think I wouldn’t like you because of how much you weigh?” 

“Well, I—why would I ever think otherwise? I’ve never had anyone like me before. Do you know how much I got teased in high school?” 

“Do you think I’m that shallow? That I’m like all those common high school bullies?” 

His words pierce your already-tender heart like one of Ignis’ training daggers. “No, Noct, never, I just—well how could I tell you, anyway? You’re _you,_ and...” 

“And you think you’re not good enough,” he sighs. “Goddammit. I’ve tried so hard to...” He grits his teeth and turns his head away grimacing. 

“To what, Noct,” you probe. 

“To make you feel like you _were_ good enough,” he finishes weakly. “Damn, if I had known...I wish you would’ve said something sooner.” 

“Please don’t be angry at me,” you start to cry. “I didn’t think—who could ever think I was pretty enough to date? Who would ever...ever _want_ to be intimate with someone like me?” 

“I do,” says Noctis, turning his stormy blue eyes on you once more, holding you captive in his gaze. “I really, really do. It’s funny--” and here, finally, he smiles, wide and wonderful-- “it’s funny, because you’re like, the only girl I’ve ever really thought about like _that_.” He lifts one of his hands from your wrist and cups your chubby cheeks, thumb stroking over tear-stained and blushing skin. 

Time has all but stopped. You can hardly process this revelation, much less think five minutes, an hour, a week into the future. All you can do is lie there and stare at up at the slender, powerful prince above you. 

“I,” you start, not knowing quite what to say next. “I’m so in love with you, Noct.” Your breath is coming in stuttered pants, and never in your wildest fantasies could you ever imagine the next words from Noct’s perfect mouth. 

“I’m in love with you, too,” he says. “Can I kiss you?” 

_____ 

“So, did I help your ‘mood’?” 

You giggle, nuzzling into Noct’s naked chest. His arms are around you, holding you tight under the covers. The evidence of your sex is still sticky and drying between the sheets and slicked between your thighs. Your breathing still hasn’t returned to normal, and you’d cried so much during the act that you think you might actually be dehydrated. 

“Shut up,” you mumble, playfully whacking Noctis on the arm. 

The prince laughs and buries his head into your sweaty hair. “I’m glad I woke up when I did. I would’ve missed it entirely. And to think, you were about to take a cold shower.” 

“Mmmmm, well. We could still take a shower. Um, together. If you wanted?” 

Noctis presses his lips to your head and sighs in satisfaction. “Maybe later. More sleep now.” 

And you drift back into dreams, the yearning within you finally and ultimately satisfied. 


End file.
